


The Mark of the Beast

by RichmanBachard



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blindfolds, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Incest, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Restraints, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 09:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichmanBachard/pseuds/RichmanBachard
Summary: The devil commits a sin, and it feels so good. Commission for two_tries.





	The Mark of the Beast

Halloween was her favorite time of year. The chill in the air making itself all the more known, the trees shifting with their various hues. But, most of all, the undeniable _feel_ of something, something eerie and wonderful, almost otherworldly, as if reality itself grew thin once a year, every year, allowing something more to slip through – elements both sinister and intoxicating in equal measure.

The thought should have unnerved her, yet it accomplished precisely the opposite. She _loved_ it. During that time, that holiday – it justified the desire to dress up, to revel in the thrill of cosplay, fear, and candy. Lots of candy. Year after year, children would come adorned in their spooky little outfits. It warmed her heart. But the Halloween party she held at her house every year remained paramount. It made for a consistent bash, full of fun. And it provided notable distraction, when trick-or-treaters grew thin or sparse. On that particular night, the partygoers – despite maintaining the faintest sense of politeness – were especially rowdy. Games, music, punch – oh, the punch – everything was going off without a hitch, nonetheless. There would be plenty to clean in the morning, an ibuprofen or two to take, she was sure. But it would all be worth it, it always was, every time. 

_”Great party, Mrs. Holt!”_ cried a costumed passerby, whom she responded to in kind with a small smile and a quick nod. He was dressed as a pirate, his walking somewhat stilted as he even sported a fake peg-leg. While humorous, she had to give the man credit – dedication went a long way. 

It went like that with all of them, dozens of talking heads all clad in a variety of costumes. An anthropomorphic wolf here, a sentai ranger there. Superheroes, villains, cops, robbers. The works. Mrs. Holt was, herself, dressed in an absolutely exquisite devil costume, only mildly sexy in its appearance. She valued _some_ semblance of restraint, but never feared showing a touch of skin. She knew her looks could kill, even at her age. She enjoyed the eyes on her, drinking in the sight of her mildly voluptuous figure. Her raven hair perfectly done, the ruby red pop of her lips. She received looks, and even gave a few back. Some men – too timid or cocky to facilitate a move – would look nonetheless. Saving the mental image of her for later, she was sure. For most it would simply have to do.

_Good,_ she thought, giving her lips a lick at the idea. 

After supplying another fresh batch of candy to more kids, all ghouls and goblins themselves – thankfully just in appearance instead of attitude, children being children – her sights were set upon the scenes of the party once more. Surveying her surroundings, avoiding any potential damages, admiring some of the busying bodies. Only some. She allowed herself that much as she sipped from her cup of punch. It was particularly good that night. Her daughter, Erika, was to thank for that. 

_Where is that girl anyway? I still don’t even know what she dressed up as.._

No matter. The thought perished the second her eyes fell upon a supple figure, her body similarly buxom to her own. Killer legs, one hell of a backside, and a good hint of muscle underneath it all. A smile crept upon Mrs. Holt’s lips as she drank it all in, drank _her_ visage in. Her hips swayed in just the right ways. To and fro, to and fro. Stockings perfectly encapsulated the meat of her plush thighs in the best possible way, anything further covered by the tight, short skirt. 

For Mrs. Holt, it was a mental image _she_ would likely save for later, perhaps. She playfully mused, entertaining the idea. Her thighs rubbed together, it had been some time since..

She couldn’t help herself. A sexy maid was a sexy maid. It checked several of her boxes.

When the woman turned, however, Mrs. Holt was thrown for a considerable loop. The maid, her arms wrapped around the neck of a hunk-version of Frankenstein’s monster, was none other than _Erika herself._

It was her, with her boyfriend, Chad. _Oh fuck,_ Mrs. Holt thought, the guilt washing over her senses in droves.

Guilt, in light of the absence of disgust.

She wanted to deny it, a part of her did. But it was paling in comparison to the thoughts that followed; the _what-if_, if not what _could be_. 

Mrs. Holt frowned despite having chewed her bottom lip to bits. The trick-or-treaters may have warmed her heart, but her maid of a daughter had warmed between her thighs.

Erika and Chad grew close, trading tongues. As their lips crashed in a heated meeting, Mrs. Holt could do nothing but watch from afar—a growing hunger in her striking, violet colored eyes. 

Chad’s hands roamed, moving to place themselves comfortably at the sides of her waist. Mrs. Holt had never noticed how.. _shapely_ she really was. Good genes had gone a long way. Again, her thoughts trailed – teetering towards fantasies downright depraved and lewd. The lewdest of lewd.

And it made her body hot to the touch. 

_Maybe.. maybe I cou-_

“H-Hello, Mrs. Holt?” asked a spaceman, snapping her back to a much more pure reality, his grey alien mask almost disturbingly lifelike. 

She shook her head lightly, blinking several times before responding. “Yes, hun?” 

He waddled slightly, left to right. “W-Where is the bathroom again, Mrs. Holt? Klaxor must relieve himself.”

She smiled into her cup, then took a brief sip. “Does Klaxor always refer to hisself in the third person?” She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. 

“Yes.”

She laughed. “The one down here is occupied still, I think, buuut there’s another, upstairs, down the hall and on the right. Just watch your step.” 

“Much obliged, Mrs. Holt, Klaxor is… _pleased._” In a flash, the lanky Grey waddled off, close to bursting as he made for the stairs, only to waddle up them even more.

She shook her head once more, as the shadow of her former lust began to return. When her eyes trailed, seeking out her buxom little maid, she found no such thing. A small frown creased her lips, despite the continued guilt. Perhaps her and her beau ran off for more punch, possibly to partake in a game… or, maybe, just maybe, Chad lead her to a considerably more private place so as to plough her soft cunt to ruin-

_God._

Sucking her teeth at the thought, it instilled in her the slightest shred of – if not outright jealously – then at least envy. She could only hope her skin wasn’t terribly green as a result. _No matter,_ she thought, pushing her lust-soaked imagination to the side. In a timely manner, she was called over to assist with something. What that something _was_ would remain to be seen.. hopefully, her alien friend Klaxor wouldn’t be involved in whatever it might have been.

  
“Hey, babe,” Chad said with a slur. Not out of drunkenness, rather it was his normal tone of voice. “You’re, like, hot as fuck, babe.”

Erika stifled an embarrassing giggle. “Thanks, Frankenstein.” She poured herself another cup of punch, moving over so as to allow others to do the same, filling their cups with the thirst-quenching elixir. In moving, she had brushed up against him, feeling the stiffness in his trousers. “Is it alive?”

Chad chuckled. “Maybe it is… and maybe it isn’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “Must be leftover rigormortis, then.”

“Rig.. whut-“

“Nothing, you big doof.” She took another sip, and then he leaned into her, his lips trailing her neck. “You’re insatiable tonight.”

“Maybe I am.. and maybe I’m _not_. Heh.. hehe.. I got an idea.”

She quirked a sharp brow and, between quiet moans, she replied, “An idea, huh? Something special for tonight?”

He leaned back with a nod. “Uh-huh. Wanna come?”

“Yes,” she said, drawing the silence out as her smirk widened, “and also yes, I’ll come along.”

“Hehe.” Chad took her hand. And like so, Frankenstein’s monster led his Bride over towards the stairs. As the pair moved by, none other than Mrs. Holt, the devil herself, caught wind of them. Rather, Erika’s scent – alluring and pleasant – caught her attention. Having finished helping fish the Wolfman out of the dish people bob for apples, temptation continued to gnaw at her core. Red hot, unending. Her feet wanted to move, her own thirst needed to be quenched. She watched them ascend the stairs and vanish from her line of sight.

Her lips trembled, then pursed. She hesitated, looking back at the heart of the party, then at the stairs. 

_Fuck it._

Consequences be damned, she felt damn near possessed that night, overcome with a desire so insatiable, so impossible to stop, she had to act on it just to feel _normal_ again. 

Not the kind of zombie outbreak she’d usually suspect, but this infection… she could get behind.

Chad snorted, stumbling his way past other couples. Some making out against the wall, others simply chatting. Him and Erika passed by a growing line to the upstairs bathroom. He led her towards the entrance of her room, then opened it for her. “Oh!” She said. “Why, thank you.” Teasingly, she tip-toed her way inside, away from prying eyes, Chad following her eagerly.

“Okay, heh, okay, babe.” Chad dug his hands into his pockets, then to his jacket pockets, his clothes shambled. “Where is.. the fuck is it-“ He hissed with satisfaction as he pulled it all free. To her surprise, and delight, he brandished a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold. “Heh.”

Erika breathed a shakey breath despite her growing excitement. Her room remained dark, obscuring much but her vision balanced enough to discern what was about to unfold. “Naughty boy,” she finally said. “Tying up and blindfolding a lil’ old maid such as me. What a brute!”

“Heh.”

_Heh,_ Mrs. Holt thought, her ear planted firmly against her daughters door. _ Yeah, what a brute._ She had fallen so far. There was a chance to turn back, still. There was. That last shred of her wanted to believe so, at least. But in contrast, gears were turning in her mind, a plan to conjure. She was possessed now, all she wanted, all she _needed_, was her. 

Inside, Erika was already giggling, sprawled out upon the bed. With another ‘heh’, Chad moved with a purpose, trailing kisses along her form before binding her wrists above her head. “Too tight, babe?”

“Just the right amount,” she affirmed.

“Nice.”

“Nice.”

He undid the blindfold, preparing it. With care, Frankenstein’s monster slowly wrapped it around her, shrouding her vision in darkness. She cooed. Nervous, but nonetheless eager. “Heh,” he croaked, slithering down to dig into her most delicate places.

Then, there was a knock at the door. 

“Huh,” he slurred, raising up. Erika sighed as he spoke once more. “Occupado, bruh!” Another knock. “Wh- busy in here!” Three more knocks.

Erika clicked her tongue.

“Fug,” he said, relenting and slipping off the bed. “Just you wait, babe, I’ll be back to slobber over that pus-“

“Please,” she interrupted, her hands flexing. “Don’t dry up the well..”

“Heh.”

He moseyed over towards the door, cracking it open a hair, a sliver of the light from outside seeping in. He leaned over, meeting the gaze of Mrs. Holt. “Hey. Sup.”

“Hey, big guy,” she replied. “Can I see you for a second? Sorry if you’re busy..”

“Unh, I mean, kinda but not, well, not really? Heh.” He stepped out, despite the faint groan in the back of the darkened room. He pulled the door shut. “Sup, Mrs. Holt? Need help?”

“I actually need you to run down to the store for me..” She played with her hands, her face appearing regretful and apologetic in her ask. “Can you... do that for me?”

Chad gave it thought. 

She quirked a brow.

“Yea, sure. Whaddya need?”

She sighed with relief. “Okay, good, uummm- well.” She handed him a small list. “Just a few things. More apples, chips. Terry and Rebecca wanted those little red.. you know the ones.”

“Uhh.. yea.”

She shoved the list into his chest with a smile. “Great! Take your time, it’s no rush.”

“Bu-“ Mrs. Holt placed her hands on him, affectionately, then pushed, moving him to head down the hall. He agreed, a purpose returning to his steps. 

_That went easier than expected.._ Mrs. Holt allowed herself a moment to take a breath, shakey as it was, she was reaching the point of no return. Again, she could turn back. Be reasonable. Be pure.

It might have worked…

But she wanted to fuck a maid that night. 

Her fingers glossed over the knob, pulling it to. She slipped inside her daughters room and closed it behind her in an instant. To the party, far and wide, Mrs. Holt was away. Busy, occupado indeed. 

  
In the dark, Erika heard the door open and someone enter. Her thighs rubbed together. “Back already, Chad?” There was no response, which struck her as, at least, slightly odd. Chad was a talker. Not a particularly great one, but a talker nonetheless. Man of actual few words as he might have been. But, perhaps, he was trying something new – something mysterious, something kinky. Well, _more_ kinky, considering. “Well, hurry up, big boy.. I’m already _soaked._

Mrs. Holt grit her teeth, her thighs rubbing together once more. Here she was, on display, completely and utterly vulnerable. In that moment, all she could do was salivate. Despite the lower level of vision, she could see. She could drink in her luscious form. Mrs. Holt then crawled upon the bed, hunger and need driving her every thought. Guilt and consequences be damned, the devil would not allow this Bride of Frankenstein, so succulent and hot to the touch, to waste away, improperly cared for by a brute. No. Mrs. Holt was going to have her _fill._

Erika, meanwhile, remained in a slight daze. Her senses dulled, only her own sense of lust and curiosity present and accounted for. She waited a beat, a hitch in her breath. “Going for the silent act,” she said, less of a question and moreso a demand. It turned her on. Luckily for her, mother could tell.

With care, the devil’s hands laid themselves upon her. Eager but slow, with deliberation. The maid gasped the softest of gasps as the devil’s’ hands roamed, exploring her body’s every curve and inch.

Mrs. Holt ogled her, the busty almost-silhouette illuminated only by the faint shreds of moonlight dripping in from the outside. The air that night was appropriately thick with a certain kind of feeling. It was infectious, arousing. 

All the more, given her daughters vulnerable state.

And so, Mrs. Holts hands moved to her breasts, pulling the confines of her costumed-dress down in order to free them. In doing so she leaned over, almost biting into them with her intensive licking and suckling. Erika moaned sharply at the sudden feel, giving herself up to whatever it was her monster continued to have in store. Holt captured a pert nipple between her lips, teething it, which only furthered the sweet moans coming from her prey. It built to an almost shrill cry as Mrs. Holt’s nimble fingers trailed downward, cupping the absolutely soaked sex of the maid. The devil, true to form, wore a devilish grin amidst her oral assault. 

Her fingers continued, rubbing circles into the damp cloth that once was her lace panties. Soon they wiggled their way past such a barrier, coming to tenderly slide along her slit. Mrs. Holt could do nothing but breath a quiet but satisfied hiss. With Erika none the wiser, her mother moved lower, ready for what she was really after. So foul and disgusting she was, yet it only emboldened her lust-filled quest. The hunger would never cease unless the devil simply had her fill.

Erika felt them: surprisingly nimble and precise hands and fingers reducing her to nothing more than putty. Her legs raised, her underwear pulled off and away, and then her legs spread from side to side. She had to give Chad credit, it was as if something took hold of him. So out of character and.. _adept_. She could hardly complain, as her mind was, in that moment, fully lost to the sweet nothings of the lustful and lewd. She could do nothing but whine at the growing anticipation, the promise of careful fingers and precise lips upon her soft, delectable cunt. 

When the devil dug in, it remained light. Kisses, laid upon her inner thighs and just below her navel. It was soft, softer than the maid had expected. And such a goddamn tease. That part, she expected nothing less. 

Yet, when her tender lips were parted with fingers and tongue she could almost sob. Her body hot, her nerves a mess. Mrs. Holt took in the scent of her arousal, so intoxicating that she grew just shy of drunk off it. The maids pussy, a small, shaven patch of hair nestled above the hood of her clit, was void of any marks or bumps. Amidst her oral admiration, Holt was impressed. Good genes were one thing but she cleaned up _well_. Very well. 

It was in that moment, that there was a shift in gears. From delicate and precise to forceful and sloppy, Mrs. Holt proceeded to devour the hot pussy of her maid daughter. Ripe and ready to be claimed. In her eyes, who better than mother dearest? Erika’s soft moans and needy whines boiled over, spilling into something much less coherent and all the more intense. She retained just enough sense so as to not alert the entire party of her pleasure, but it was a tight-rope to walk. A battle she would surely lose as the devil continued to eat away, lapping at sopping mound with reckless abandon. It was then Erika came, once. It was slow, boiling her insides with the excitement of release, but when it hit it hit _hard_. And with barely any time to recuperate from the aftershocks, Mrs. Holt dragged it out, egging her on. The devil had barely managed to stifle her own sounds, her thighs rubbing together once more as her soaked nethers continued to ache. In lieu of her neglect of self, it provided twice the amount of motivation to proceed. By the end of tonight, Erika would lose her mind to unbearable pleasure and never be the same. She would never know – _probably, at least_ – whom it truly was who devoured her that night. Chad would never amount, could never amount. An impossible task. 

Despite the small amount of guilt that idea brought, it also ushered a sense of devilish pride. _No one_ could fuck and make love like she could, no one. The neighborhood boys – all virile young men – saw that in her, a monster hidden underneath that sweet smile. And that thought made her so fucking wet.

Then came fingers, two slipping inside her plush entrance to curve upward. Another moan, both needy and anguished, escaped Erika’s lips as she felt another orgasm on its way. 

There was so much she could do to her, so much. There were fists, and toys – oh, the toys – and so much more. Positions. _And other holes to potentially deflower._ But as tempting as those thoughts were, Mrs. Holt was forced to remain selective. Given her timetable, eating pussy was the most a devil could manage, considering.

Her tongue twisted around the maids stiff clit, before latching her lips onto it fully in a flurry of intense tonguing as her fingers beckoned from within. She was squealing, letting tiny mewls slip from her maw as Mrs. Holt drew another orgasm from here.

When it came, it hit twice as hard—as it washed over her entire body, causing it to quiver. Her pussy gushed, damn near drawing a surprised but all too pleased squeal from the devil herself – but she refrained, grinning into her sex instead. 

Erika drew several, unbalanced breaths. Her cheeks beet-red, her mind almost broken from the fucking her sex was getting. The right mixture of laser-focused precision and the messiest reverence possible. Mrs. Holt toyed with her labia fully, not allowing even a sliver of despite. The night may have been young but the devil’s time was short, she had to make do. 

In her lust-addled thoughts, she considered how much longer she might have. The trip Chad headed out on would surely have taken some time, especially for someone as such as Frankenstein’s monster. She tossed the idea around in her head as her middle and ring fingers plunged deeply into the maids cunt, much to the anguished delight of the latter woman.

Maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Holt _could_ deflower her daughter further, taking another series of firsts. Something Chad would never be able to deliver. The idea grew nearly impossible to deny. 

The devil grinned once more, her chin wet with pleasure and her fingers sticky in the most satisfying of ways. 

_Fuck it,_ she thought.

Later, Chad returned, bags of groceries in tow. “Uhh, heh, uh – like, help?”

Like an angel sent down, he was greeted by none other than Klaxor. “Greetings, human, you.. require assistance?”

“Uh, yea, bruh.”

Klaxor nodded, quickly taking a few of the bags from the big green giant. “Klaxor will assist. Come.” Together, the pair moseyed from his car back inside Mrs. Holt’s house – the only dominating thought in Chad’s mind being his restrained prize, up in her room. It had been some time but, surely, she remained ready and willing.

Once everything was squared away, the supplies quickly and safely dispensed, Frankenstein’s monster grew impatient. He practically booked it, then, hustling up the staircase despite his mildly dazed state of mind. Coming to the second floor, the hallway remained peppered with costumed-partygoers, all chatting or going to use the upstairs bathroom. Brushing past those who were in the way, he put on his usual sheen of charm, getting back into character. 

When he spotted Mrs. Holt at the far end, near Erika’s room, he met the devil with a smile.

She returned the gesture. “Hiya, Chad,” she said, welcoming him. “Got everything?”

“Yea, heh. An alien helped me.”

Her smile widened. “And here we thought those little green men were evil.”

“Well, I mean, he’s grey-“

She patted him upon one of his broad shoulders. “True, true. Thank you, Chad, I’m just.. so _beat._”

“No prob, Mrs. Holt,” he warmly replied, despite the mild tapping of his anxious foot. Everything had come together perfectly, except for one thing. He wore a look of mild concern as he studied her face further. “Uhh, Mrs. Holt?”

“Yes?”

“You okay?” He motioned vaguely towards her makeup. “Your lipstick looks kinda.. kinda messy and, and-“

Her eyes widened somewhat, her head briefly turning to look into the adjacent mirror against the hallway wall. Her fingers toyed, in an attempt to clean up as best she could without added help. She turned back, meeting his gaze. “Thank you, erm- it’s been a long day, you know. Just got done.. bobbing for apples. Tough game.” A small smile creased her lips. “Messy.”

“Heh, yea, I gotcha. You look good, though. Hot. I see where Erika gets it from.” Chad paused, drawing out the awkward if sweet compliment. “Uhh, soo.. yea, I’m gonna-“ He motioned towards Erika’s door, which Mrs. Holt immediately understood, stepping to the side. “Great party, by the way!” he added before slipping inside, shutting the door behind him so he could finally have at his Bride.

Mrs. Holt damn near came on the spot. “Yeah,” she said aloud, but only to herself as she begun walking away, knowing full well of the sloppy seconds he would be partaking in. Her daughter, so fucked out of her mind, barely able to know who was pleasuring her. _”Great party.”_ Surely, Chad wouldn’t notice all the lipstick marks upon Erika’s quivering mass of flesh.

Halloween was her favorite time of year, and always would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [@RichmanBachard](https://twitter.com/RichmanBachard) and [@RichmanSFW](https://twitter.com/RichmanSFW) to keep up with my stories, my commission info, and my insanity.


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